


Alone

by blackberrywidow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, I wrote this to cope with waiting for Avengers 4, Iron Dad, It did not help, Peter turns to ash, Spoilers..., spider son, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberrywidow/pseuds/blackberrywidow
Summary: The moments after the Snap through Peter's eyes.





	Alone

Going to Titan with Mr. Stark had been a no brainer for Peter, even when he had no idea where he was going or what they were up against.

 

He had known all he needed to know at the time: the wizard with the necklace was on the ship; the ship was going to space; Mr. Stark was on the ship; Mr. Stark was going to space to save the wizard with the necklace. So Peter was going to space to help Mr. Stark save the wizard with the necklace.

 

No brainer. He couldn’t leave Mr. Stark to fight off weird aliens in space _alone_.

 

Mr. Stark needed him.

 

And what Peter had told him was true. Being Spider-man was pointless if there was no one left to protect. This was what Peter was given powers to do, if one believed in cosmic destiny or whatever.

 

But… he had not anticipated where that decision would take him.

 

They were stuck on Titan now, with the only surviving Titan having just disappeared, presumably to Earth. Mr. Stark had been stabbed. They were all injured. They were all stuck on a barren planet. Waiting.

 

Peter worried about Aunt May. About Ned, MJ, and all of his friends. He worried about the other Avengers, who he was sure were still fighting.

 

It was a weird feeling. Being helpless. One he had been more accustomed to before he had gotten his powers. Of course, he had faced a lot more deadly situations since the spider bit him, but never had the fate of the universe rested (partially) on his shoulders.

 

Though if anyone looked like they were carrying the weight of the world, it was Mr. Stark.

 

Peter considered going over to him—to try to talk, to try to plan, to cry. He didn’t know. But he didn’t.

 

He remembered what Mr. Stark had told him, what felt like forever ago now. If Peter died, Mr. Stark would feel the weight of that too. They were stuck here, unsure of how to get back home, unsure of how to stop a Titan with the power of the universe at his fingertips. Completely unsure if any of them would survive this.

 

Mr. Stark would just need time. A little more time to figure everything out.

 

He was the smartest man Peter knew. He was Iron Man. He was an Avenger. He was his mentor. Maybe he was more than that.

 

He certainly felt like the closest thing Peter had to a father since… Well, thinking about that wasn’t going to help Peter now, so he didn’t.

 

Instead, he made his decision. The only one he could make at that moment anyway.

 

Mr. Stark had been used to being alone for a long time— before Iron Man, before the Avengers, before him. He was used to solving problems and forming solutions by himself because he had to.

 

But he wasn’t alone here, no matter how empty and desolate this planet felt. Peter was here, because Mr. Stark needed him. And if he were being honest, he knew that he needed Mr. Stark now too. To guide him to the solution, like he always did when Peter needed him to.

 

So he made his way over to his injured, mentally shaken mentor, feeling his spirts lift slightly now that he had some sort of purpose on this forsaken planet.

 

That’s when he saw it.

 

Mantis, then Drax, then Other Peter—they had been standing there one moment, gone in the wind the next. As if their entire bodies had simply… turned to dust.

 

He turned to Mr. Stark with wide eyes, now openly panicking. But Mr. Stark would know what to do. He _had_ to, because Peter certainly didn’t.

 

That’s when he felt it.

 

A strange… crawling feeling seemed to ice over his veins. He wasn’t sure if this was truly pain he was feeling. It was certainly uncomfortable, unpleasant, _unbearable_. But it was unlike any pain Peter had ever felt before. He was cold all over, his hands were trembling, he felt so, so _wrong_.

 

He was definitely panicking now.

 

“Mr. Stark.”

 

He turned towards him, worry clearly in his eyes too. It wasn’t for him though, not yet.

 

“I don’t feel so good.”

 

Peter felt his legs start to give out and he stumbled, immediately trying to right himself. He was fine. He was fine. Mr. Stark was here. _He_ was still here, not a pile of ashes yet. He was fine.

 

But his lungs were seizing now, his chest heaving, his knees shaking. _What was happening to him?_

 

“You’re alright,” Mr. Stark said. Peter wasn’t sure if it was a question or not, wasn’t sure of how to answer it if it was one anyway. But he saw it now. Mr. Stark was worried about him. He almost looked _scared_. Which did little for Peter’s own despair about this situation.

 

“I—I don’t know,” he said, taking his first shaking step towards his mentor. “I don’t, I don’t know what’s happening.”

 

He was rambling now, and he had somehow crashed into Mr. Stark’s arms. Mr. Stark, who was clutching him to his chest tightly, in the hug he had always kind of secretly hoped they could have. But he knew why he was doing it now.

 

Peter was lying. He knew what was happening to him now. They both did.

 

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go.”  


He was chanting it, as he clung to the only person he had left with him. As if that would save him. As if words were enough to spare him from Thanos.

 

He was on the ground now, though he wasn’t sure how it happened. Mr. Stark was still there though. He was sure he would still be there when Peter was gone too.

 

He stared motionlessly at the sky then, somehow accepting that this was happening to him. That he was _dying_.

 

A hard thing to accept at seventeen-years-old, when there was still so much he felt like he had to do.

 

A thousand thoughts seem to flash across his mind in the remaining few seconds he had left. Mostly of the people he was leaving behind, assuming they hadn’t already left him. Aunt May, all alone now. Ned, without his best friend to be the guy in the chair for. MJ, with one less person to call a friend and simultaneously torment. Mr. Stark, crouched next to him, looking as though part of his own soul had left his body.

 

Mr. Stark, who had to watch him die. Mr. Stark, who would have to live with that guilt. Mr. Stark, who Peter was leaving all alone here.

 

Peter finally found it within himself to fight again. He knew what was coming, knew it was coming soon, knew he couldn’t stop it. And though his heart felt like a stone in his chest and his tongue felt heavy and leaden in his dry mouth, he forced his last words through his numb lips, because it was the last thing he was able to offer the man he looked up to as though he were his father. And he would at least give this to him, even if it meant very little in the end.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Mr. Stark’s devastated eyes were the last thing Peter saw in that world, and though he had much more life left to live and so much more to give to world, he was at least grateful that he didn’t have to die alone.


End file.
